


Do You Know What It Means?

by crocodilio



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, F/F, Gideon the Bassist, Harrowhark the Pianist, New Orleans, ya like jazz?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodilio/pseuds/crocodilio
Summary: Gideon Nav just landed the gig of her life. Now all she needs is a pianist. And a drummer. And a horn player.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Stardust

Gideon Nav paced inside the shed behind her house, phone to her ear ringing for what felt like the thousandth time before she heard a faint hello from the other end. 

“Palamedes!” She cried out in relief at the sound of his voice. “Pal I got it! The gig! The Spotted Cat gig!”

There was a pause

“The Friday night one? Eight to ten, eleven to two?” Palamedes asked like Gideon hadn’t been talking his ear off about this for weeks.

“Yes! That one, that’s the one! They’re calling for a quartet. I need you and Cam on it. Can you think of a horn player? I was thinking saxophone but trumpet would be fine, hell I’d take a trombone at this point-” Gideon’s excitement was cut short.

“Nav, I told you before I can’t. I can ask Cam again but as far as I’m aware she has a booked Friday night for the foreseeable future as well.” 

Silence struck again before Palamedes spoke up once more.

“Gideon, seriously? You can’t be mad at me, I’ve spent Friday nights with Dulcinea for months now, I never take those gigs.”

Gideon remained still in her shack, not saying a word. She stared at her upright bass in the corner of the room, soft mahogany curves resting against the wall.

“Gids, I can find you another pianist, I’ll text you her number before the gig toni- actually. I’ll do you one better. Just be at this gig on time please. Downbeat at six, that gives you an hour to get here. And don’t be pouty. Nobody tips a pouty bass player.” Palamedes hung up.

He was right. Gideon remembered him saying it a million times, he never did gigs on a Friday night. How had she forgotten? Friday gigs for Gideon were always the worst because she, for the life of her, could never stop thinking about how Sex Pal of all people had a cute date that night and not her. And everytime, for the life of her, she couldn’t stop those thoughts from tangling her fingers over her strings. Palamedes was right about another thing, however. No bass player in the history of New Orleans was going to get tips frowning at the crowd. On that thought, Gideon put on her suit jacket, packed up her instrument and headed out.

She drove an orange Kia Soul, just a touch lighter than her hair. Her bass was snug and clad in black poking out between the front seats. The car was compact enough to fit in most parking spaces, yet still large enough to fit all of her musical essentials. Plus, though she hadn’t admitted this to another living soul, the commercial with the hamsters and the robots had sold her on the car years before she even got her learners permit.

______________________________

It took Gideon a minute to grab everything she needed out of the car after parking. This process became even more difficult when Gideon’s phone began to ring. She noted the time before answering. 5:45.

“Hey Pal, I’m walkin’ here!” Gideon answers and hoists her bass onto the sidewalk, the wheel underneath made it a million times easier to navigate. Her left arm snaked around the neck of her instrument, Palamedes’ slightly irritated voice on speaker in hand. Her other hand held her amplifier.

“Downbeat in 14 minutes Gids, I need you here now.” Palamedes murmured something to someone away from the phone.

“I’m around the corner, I’ll be there, no sweat.” Gideon’s multi-tasking skills were usually nothing impressive but right now she was holding conversation, dodging tourists, and not dropping her cargo like a champ.

“Which corner?” Palamedes didn’t believe her.

“Uh…” Gideon went silent as she looked around for a landmark. “I just passed Central Deli, should be there in like ten minutes. Now get that stick out of your ass Sex Pal, the tourists can hear it rattle around in there when you play.”

“If you get here on time, the stick will be removed. If you don’t get here on time, the stick will still be removed, I’ll just also have to beat you with it.” Palamedes pulled the phone away from his ear again to answer somebody else, probably the bartender wanting to know when they’re gonna start.

“Good deal.” Gideon said, huffing under the uncomfortable weight of her instrument, “Now tell me about this other pianist. You know I only settle for the best.”

“Thanks Nav, I’m blushing.” Palamedes’ voice was deadpan, which quickly changed at the mention of this other pianist. “But for starters, this other girl is a handful. She’s got the chops, I just can’t seem to keep using her as a sub if all the cats in town are scared of her.” Gideon laughed, startling a group of tourists with the unholy mass of black fabric that she carried in tow.

“Scared of a pianist? I’ll be fine, Sex Pal, just text me her number.” Gideon eased the phone away from her ear as she turned the corner to her destination, the Dragon’s Den Bar and Restaurant. The building was two stories, and red enough to make a bull shit it’s pants. Inside, the bar was long, much longer than you’d think just by looking at the front entrance. The bar itself was decorated with various eastern visual designs, not overdone enough to be in poor taste. Gideon could see all of this through the open doubles doors, finally stepping inside at the sound of Palamedes’ voice still emanating from her phone.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you after the first set. You know we’re supposed to start in two-” GIdeon hung up the phone and rolled her bass down the long room all the way to the back, where Palamedes and a mystery drummer sat on stage. “-minutes…” Palamedes stared at his phone with a frown, only looking up when Gideon announced her arrival with a loud smack of her amp against the stage and a hushed apology.  
Before Gideon had even set her instrument down she was already unzipping the case, pulling it off entirely with the wheel still attached. Before tossing the case under the piano, she removed a long metal rod from one of the pockets. The rod was in the early stages of corrosion, no longer reflecting light like a mirror, and was divided every inch or so by indentations about a quarter of an inch deep. Gideon unscrewed the wheel from a hole at the bottom of her instrument and replaced it with the rod she had taken from her case, adjusted it to her height and shoved the wheel and case under the piano finally.

“Green Dolphin Street? D flat?” Palamedes’ eyes darted between Gideon, who was closer to him (in the middle of the stage), and the drummer, who was further away (on stage left).

“D flat?” Gideon almost choked, she looked back at Palamedes and then to the drummer, who she still barely recognized. She had played with him once or twice before. He was a big dude, played well enough, but he wasn’t Sex Pal’s usual drummer.

“D flat.” Palamedes confirmed and snapped his fingers into a count-off and the tune started.

This was not the way Gideon was used to playing this tune. As a matter of fact, this was not the way anyone was used to playing this tune. She thought it would be much more difficult than it was, but as the tune played, GIdeon noticed she was walking a bassline on the chord changes with little effort. Slowly, she relaxed and found the panic that built up in her throat simmer down. When Palamedes’ solo finished, he jumped back onto the melody and the tune finished as abruptly as it started.

The room fell silent, but quiet applause eventually came from the bartender and someone fairly far from the stage, closer to the door. A woman, Gideon thought. Maybe she’ll come over and tip, or buy Gideon a drink. Gideon hoped this woman was a pretty woman.

“Next tune?” Gideon’s thoughts on the woman ended with Palamedes’ voice. He called another tune, counted it off and away they played.

The music continued for another 56 minutes before Palamedes got on the mic next to the piano to address their adoring fans. All four other people in the bar, three if you consider the bartender’s inability to leave without sacrificing his basic source of income, stared in silence. “Thank you all for coming out tonight, we’re gonna be taking a quick break but be sure to stick around for another set. I’m Palamedes Sextus on piano, this is Gideon Nav on bass, and that’s Colum Asht on drums. If you like the music, we have a tip jar here and if you like the drinks, the bartender’s got a tip jar there.” Palamedes pointed over to the bar where the bartender gave a small nod of gratitude. 

Gideon looked at Palamedes, then Colum (That was his name! How could she have forgot.) “Gentlemen. Drinks?” She laid her bass down on it’s side and moved over to the bar, not waiting for a response from either of them.

“An amber ale please?” The bartender nodded in understanding. It wasn’t until he brought over two drinks that Gideon realized Palamedes was now sitting in the stool next to hers. She popped the can open and took a hefty swig.

“So, pianist. Phone number.” Gideon put her beer down and turned to Palamedes. He looked at her, his face contorted in confusion.

“Didn’t I say I’d do you one better? See? Perfect timing.” He was looking past Gideon at this point, and she swivelled around in her stool to reveal the woman from before walking up to them.

She was dressed in all black, like a skinnier version of her bass case. A tight black leather jacket, tight black jeans, and black leather platform shoes, topped off with a head of short black hair. Her eyes were black too, staring at her felt like being pushed down a well.

“Gideon Nav” She said coldly. Gideon was going to ask how she knew her name but remember that Palamedes had said it at the end of the set.

“Uh.. hi.” Gideon grabbed her drink again and a smile began to creep onto her face. “You must be the pianist I’ve heard so much about.”

“I’ll do the gig. We’ll rehearse twice a week leading up to the first Friday. I have your phone number, I’ll contact you.” The pianist stopped to analyze Gideon’s reaction. Gideon’s smile had faltered. “And no horn player. Palamedes.” She regarded the other pianist in proximity then turned on her heel straight out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, leaving Gideon at a loss for words. 

Palamedes let the silence linger as he nursed his drink. “Harrow.” he said.

Gideon looked up at him from her empty beer can. “Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Is her full name, everyone calls her Harrow.”

“Are you sure it’s not Princess Bitch, Heiress to the Black Citadel, Unholy Be Thy Name? I thought you said you liked her.” Gideon looked worried more than anything. This gig was do or die for her.

“I do, but that was a recent development. I’ve known her for a couple of years now. Absolute monster on the keys, though.”

“Yeah I’d be surprised if she did anything not looking like a monster. Wasn’t it redundant? The clothes I mean. All that black.” The bartender sat another drink in front of Gideon.

“Well, look at you, you’re wearing all black.” Palamedes assessed her outfit, as did Gideon.

“This shirt is grey. A dark grey, I’ll give you that, but not black.”

“Yeah alright, point still gets across crystal clear, Megadeth.” 

Gideon got up with her drink and pulled at Palamedes’ silver turtle-neck. “We still got a couple of eager ears in this bar, let's get back on stage.” Gideon picked up her bass and nodded to Colum, who had just looked up from his phone from the other side of the drum kit. Palamedes climbed on stage last, snatching the mic in real close.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he looked out at the two people still left at the bar. “This next song is one of my favorites. A Hoagy Carmichael tune entitled… Stardust.” 

This was not one of Palamedes’ favorite songs, Gideon realized as he began his piano intro for the umpteenth time in the past month. This was Palamedes’ favorite song period. He played nearly every opportunity he had, usually closer to the end of a gig, closer to midnight. It was the perfect song to bring on an intimate atmosphere only smaller venues could enjoy fully. And, without fail, it was intimacy he brought. 

“And now the purple dusk of twilight time.” Palamedes began to sing, it was the only song he sang. Gideon could see it this time, this twilight time.

“Steals across the meadows of my heart.” Gideon could see these meadows too, and a big house. She was on the roof of this house.

“High up in the sky the little stars climb, always reminding me that we’re apart.” Time seemed to pass faster in this memory, the stars came out shortly after the sun completely set. She could see the entire sky from this rooftop.

“You wander down the lane and far away, Leaving me a song that will not die.” The memory continued to unfold. There was someone on the roof with her, a little girl. She was singing, but Gideon couldn’t make out the melody.

“Love is now the stardust of yesterday, the music of the years gone by.” Palamedes finished the verse and began to fall into the tempo for the chorus.

Gideon lifted her hands and fell in line with him, her body moved on auto-pilot. Her thoughts stay up on the roof, however, watching the stars and listening to a melody she did not know.


	2. The Nearness of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsal time :)

Gideon was pissed. It was the morning after a very special, very goth visitor came to Dragon’s Den and so graciously accepted a gig offer Gideon didn’t even know she offered to this girl, and she couldn’t sleep (this was extremely irregular for Gideon, considering it was now 9:16 am and she did not usual wake up until noon at least).  
Two thoughts kept Gideon up this morning, both of which she could blame on Palamedes. The first was the nerve of that pianist. If she did, in fact, grow on Palamedes, Gideon could only see it as a tumorous growth. The second, which managed to annoy Gideon more, was the memory attached to Palamedes’ performance of Stardust that night. Gideon came to the conclusion that this likely annoyed her more because it asked more questions. Questions she couldn’t answer. Questions that kept her awake.

Who was this roof girl?

What was she singing?

That second question bothered Gideon more than anything. It was on the tip of her tongue (Tip of her thoughts? Memories?) and she hated it. Regardless, she would blame Palamedes for her restlessness.

___________________________________________________

Would you be able to rehearse this evening? I’ve had a cancellation and can fit you into my schedule.

Gideon stared at her phone. The time read 2:30 pm. Pausing the movie Gideon had already been ignoring on the TV, she pondered a response. She needed to say something that made it clear that Gideon didn’t like this weird authoritative tone this woman took, but was not too obvious. She began typing.

This is kind of a late notice as I’m occupied with another gig later today. Let me know what times in the next week work for you and I’ll see what I can do.

She sat for a second before hitting send. It sounded okay to her, not too obviously annoyed, not overly polite either. 

The response was immediate.

I’ve already asked Palamedes and it appears you do not have a gig tonight. I’m free after 5 pm, you may come anytime after that. 7602 St Charles Ave

What was with this woman? She was acting like Gideon just painted her whole wardrobe white. Gideon began typing again this time, not thinking over her response this time.

Is there a specific reason today is so important for us to rehearse? We still have three weeks before the gig even starts.

Gideon stared at the “typing” icon that came up immediately upon sending. It stopped for a bit, leaving Read 2:34 pm right below her latest message.

Just come.

Gideon blinked. The two words felt huge on her screen. If she hadn’t met this woman beforehand, she would have assumed they were words of desperation.

So she did.

__________________________________________________________

The house was big but not huge. It had two stories, with a sizable balcony pointing out towards the street and a porch the same size right beneath it. It wasn’t a mansion but this woman has money. Most importantly, though, was the fact that the house was black. The detailing on window panes and shutters were a dark grey, and a soft warm light on the second floor was just barely visible against the sun beginning to set. Gideon would have believed it haunted if the paint wasn’t fresh.

She opened the gate, instrument in hand and proceeded onto the porch surrounded by ornate black railings. Her hand hit the drab door in three firm knocks, and she waited. Gideon turned her head, carefully inspecting the new paint job through her heavily shaded aviators. Before long, her view of the black clapboard exterior was replaced by an equally black fabric; the wide rim of a sunhat. The wearer was seated, staring at Gideon through a more circular pair of sunglasses, matched by black lipstick and a lacy black dress. Neither woman moved.

“It’s a little redundant, no?” Gideon said, deciding their staring contest was over since neither could see the other’s eyes (Gideon also decided that she had won said staring contest of course).

Harrowhark Nonagesimus cocked her head slightly, as if not quite understanding.

“The black I mean. It’s… a lot.” Gideon speaks again.

To this, Harrowhark simply gets out of her seat and moves gracefully over to the door, opening it for her guest. She looks Gideon up and down. “I’m glad you were able to get the memo.”

Gideon, looking down at her clothes, realizes she too was clad in all black. Her sweatpants, tanktop, and running shoes didn’t have a single shade lighter than a dark charcoal gray. This made her smile. 

The interior of Harrowhark’s home came with a wider variety of colors than it’s exterior. The walls were surprisingly white. The foyer was well lit by sunlight, revealing a white staircase, topped with oak wood treads. A chandelier hung high above the front door, it’s crystal design obscured by the light from the sunset pouring in from adjacent second floor windows.

Harrowhark stood to Gideon’s left, putting her sunhat on a coat hanger next to the door and letting her sunglasses sit on the crown of the hanging hat. Gideon put her aviators in her instrument case. With Harrowhark’s hat off, it was revealed that she had her short hair in a small ponytail tied back with a purple hair tie. It was the only color she could make out on her entire body that wasn’t black, white, or her skin tone (thought Gideon thought she was white enough to not count her skin tone as a separate color).

Gideon turned her attention to the full-sized concert grand piano in the living room to her right. Also in the living room was a black leather sectional sofa, a glass coffee table, a checkered black and white rug, and a surprising amount of potted plants. Gideon moved over to the piano, her instrument in tow.

“Do you have a day job?” Gideon asked as she unzipped her case. 

After a pause, a voice came from the open kitchen past the living area where Gideon was setting up. “No, just music. Jazz.” Harrowhark said that last word with a tad of flare, like it was exciting for her to say.

“Then what else do you do? I know gigs didn’t pay for this piano. Or house. Or furniture.” Gideon pulled her case off of her instrument, setting it down. The bass was a number of shades darker than the hardwood floors it rested on.

“That is all I do currently.” Harrowhark came back to the living room with a coffee mug filled with black coffee.

“Then… where?” Gideon gestures broadly at her surroundings, with particular emphasis on the $100,000 dollar piano next to her. “And aren’t you going to ask your guest if they’d like a cup of coffee?”

Harrowhark looks deeply offended, like Gideon just insulted her piano. “I didn’t invite you to my home for an author reading of Harrowhark Nonagesimus: A Complete History. Or to suck down my coffee.” She stared at Gideon longer before looking down at her feet. She sat at the piano. “The pot is in the kitchen, Cups in the cabinet right above it.” She played a couple of chords on the piano, now staring at her hands.

Gideon moved to the kitchen and opened the cabinet. Inside the cabinet, on the bottom shelf were several coffee cups. The middle shelf was more occupied, about 20 glasses stacked on top of eachother. The top shelf housed the fanciest wine glasses Gideon had seen outside of a restaurant. She wondered what kind of wine a woman like Harrowhark would even drink. Gideon settled on probably an expensive one, and grabbed a coffee cup from the bottom shelf. 

“Is there cream and sugar?” Gideon looked around the kitchen with no luck, afraid to open the fridge without permission. Her wandering eyes fall back on the coffee cup she pulled from the shelf. It was white, and in big black letters read:

What’s Life Without A Little Jazz

It was cute, Gideon thought. For some reason, Gideon felt the cup to be more personal than one may think. She wouldn’t bring it up to Harrowhark.

“No sugar, but there’s Half-and-Half in the fridge. Please hurry up.” Harrowhark responds over what Gideon assumed were improvised melodies over a familiar progression of chords.

Gideon poured the Half-and-Half, swirling color into her coffee and walked back to the living room where Harrowhark abruptly stopped her playing.

“The Nearness of You.” Gideon sipped her coffee, placed it on one of the wooden coasters atop the clear coffee table, and picked up her instrument. She played each individual string to ensure it was still in tune (It was).

“What?” Harrowhark put her cup down on her own wooden coaster, this one on the piano. “Oh. Yes. Obviously.” She played what sounded to Gideon like an introduction to the song she just named. “The Key is A major.” She looked away from Gideon and down at her hands “Four more bars of this Three-Six-Two-Five.”

It took Gideon a second to realize Harrowhark was spewing musical terms at her, but she quickly decoded it and jumped into the song. Harrowhark began the melody as it’s usually played with some small additions, not enough to make it unrecognizable but enough to make it her own. She wasn’t bad at all. In fact, Gideon found herself able to listen to Harrowhark play and fall into the rhythm of the song with ease.

The melody was coming to an end, which meant Harrowhark was either going to play the melody again or play a piano solo. Regardless, Gideon felt the song needed to move along a bit more intensity wise, so she began to play more (playing on every beat instead of every other beat like how she began the song). The melody came to an end and Gideon listened intently to hear where the song would go, but it went nowhere. Harrowhark had stopped playing entirely.

“Why did you start walking?” Harrowhark said this in a rather nasty tone, a tone that didn’t quite fit the importance of the question in Gideon’s opinion.

“Why wouldn’t I? You played through the melody. Do you want me to stay in two for the whole song?” Gideon sounded more defensive then she meant to.

“Of course not.” Harrowhark looked really upset about this, and Gideon felt like she missed something vital. “Just… Give me some breathing room.” Harrowhark sighed and placed her hands back on the keys. “Last eight bars of the melody. First time.” She began playing without checking if Gideon was ready.

Gideon caught up with where she was in the song, listening intently again to where Harrowhark would go once they reached the end of the melody. Gideon was careful not to play too much as to “give her some breathing room”. However, the end of the melody this time brought a different surprise. Harrowhark didn’t begin playing the melody again or start soloing. Harrowhark Nonagesimus started singing.

“It’s not the pale moon that excites me.” Gideon’s finger fumbles on the string before setting itself back into position.

“That thrills and delights me, oh no.” Goosebumps travel down Gideon’s arms as she plays. This was not what she expected.

“It’s just the nearness of you.” Harrowhark looks up at Gideon’s dumbfounded face and a slight smile tugs at her black lips. This makes a heat rise from Gideon’s chest up to her neck.

“It’s not your sweet conversation.” Her singing, Gideon decides, may very well be better than her piano playing (But she has yet to hear Harrowhark play a piano solo).

“That brings this sensation, oh no.” Gideon is confident her body will continue to betray her if she looks at Harrowhark’s eyes so she settles her gaze on Harrowhark’s hands whenever they bounce up into view from behind the piano. 

“It’s just the nearness of you.” Gideon’s curiosity gets the better of her and she looks back into Harrowhark’s eyes. This time, she looks rather serious. That hint of a smile she thought she saw before was gone. The heat remained in Gideon’s chest.

After singing the rest of the melody the song moved on to a piano solo, then a bass solo. They stopped and started many times during the solos, talking about possible changes they could make. This went on for an hour, the longest either of them have ever spent on one song during a rehearsal. Gideon decides she must hear more singing before she settles on a verdict on whether Harrowhark was a better pianist or vocalist.

“I don’t think much more productivity is going to come from me today.” Harrowhark looked at her hands like she had just killed someone (an event Gideon still considers to likely be included in Harrowhark Nonagesimus: A Complete History). They had already discussed ending rehearsal, so Gideon was packing up her instrument.

“You never…” Gideon stopped to focus on zipping her bass case up “...said you sang.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask about that earlier.” Harrowhark still stared at her hands but was inspecting her nails now, hand stretched out palm down looking quite pleased with herself.

“I wanted to be a professional and save non-constructive remarks for after rehearsal.” Gideon felt like she was on the defensive again. She figured this would probably be the norm around Harrowhark.

“Right.” Harrowhark got up from the piano bench and brought both coffee mugs to the kitchen. Though Gideon could not see it, Harrowhark inspected the Jazz mug with a smile before placing it and the other mug in the sink.

“I guess the singing explains the weird key signatures then.” Gideon half said this to the woman in the kitchen and half said it to herself. 

“Yes, I would say making sure the melody of a song is in my vocal range is rather important, regardless of where it leaves the rest of the band.” Harrowhark was back in the living room now. This could have been regarded as a joke, but Gideon was scared to laugh with Harrowhark’s face so devoid of emotion on delivery. 

Harrowhark walked to the door, Gideon followed. When they both reached the door, they sat in silence. Gideon noticed now that the purple hair tie was not the only color that Harrowhark wore. The black of Harrowhark’s iris and pupil reflected the vegetation in her home incredibly clearly. That bit of green she wore without knowing, and Gideon found it to fit her just fine. Harrowhark opened the door.

“I’d call that a successful rehearsal.” Gideon said in the doorway.

“The rehearsal went well.” Harrowhark responded, still holding the door open. Her legs were crossed where she stood.

“I guess you can just text me with our next rehearsal time then. See you around, Harrowhark.”

“Just Harrow.” Gideon stopped walking down the steps to look at her. “Just Harrow is fine.” She repeated. Her face still looked emotionally barren, perhaps a tinge of annoyance. Gideon thought it looked forced, or maybe just wished it was.

“See you around, Harrow.” The door was slowly closing now.

Before it closed, Harrow responded one last time. “Bye Griddle.”

Gideon got in her car with her instrument and drove home. As she drove, she recounted what the pianist had said to her just a moment ago. Just Harrow. It felt so personal but the face of the woman who said it looked so… not personal? That didn’t make sense, she thought. Then the car came to a screeching stop, Gideon’s foot had slammed on the break.

Griddle.

Had she called her Griddle?

It was 8 pm when Gideon got home. She immediately rolled into her bed, falling asleep soon after.

That night she dreamt of the girl on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I'm back! Sorry if formatting is weird, I'm still trying to keep it consistent.
> 
> I tried this time to include some music term descriptions in the story itself, please let me know if having definitions in the notes helps as well, I can add them. 
> 
> Here's some recordings of The Nearness of You to check out!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2s7GqwWK6Rc This is recorded by the fantastic Ella Fitzgerald
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDetQYTY0Mo A very nice trio recording with Red Garland on piano
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you guys! Deleted and reuploaded since I completely revamped this chapter. I'm also gonna add some definitions to music terms so people don't feel like out. Please feel free to leave critiques!
> 
> Gigs (in this context) - Musical performances of some kind, usually at restaurants or bars or other musical venues and involve playing multiple sets with breaks in between
> 
> cats - musicians
> 
> any usage of letters with the words natural, flat, or sharp after them - just specific musical terms, it's more important that it feels like musicians are talking to each other rather than you know exactly what they mean 100% of the time. I'll try to keep plot points clear even for readers with no musical background.
> 
> Solo - When a musician plays an improvised melody over the form of a song 
> 
> I'm much happier about this chapter than the last upload and I won't be deleting this one. Enjoy!
> 
> Songs mentioned this chapter:
> 
> On Green Dolphin Street - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZOGy1Ctd3w - Oscar Peterson  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSyawuRB32Y - Red Garland
> 
> Stardust - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjU6ZjrQulc - Nat King Cole  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzUp234nWx8 - Hoagy Carmichael ( no verse from the chapter)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYa2IkEzKh4 - Doris Day


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